Broken words from a broken soul
by Thecurtaincall
Summary: It hurts. Every thing hurts and this time he can't hide it. He's broken and as much as he tried to fix himself, he failed. But this time he won't try to put himself back together. He just can't do it anymore.


The moment he felt his eyes open, he knew all three pieces of his soul were in him. He knew he failed. All three parts of him failed, but then again did he expect anything different? They were mini hims after all.

So it was failure that hit him first. But anger soon washed over him. Anger in himself but then anger towards Oga.

Sitting up he avoided all the eyes that were on him except for one pair. Looking up he stared back at Oga who was standing the closest to him.

Seeing him made him more angry and with venom in his tone he spat out. "Why didn't you listen." He paused for a moment only to continue, glaring at Oga the entire time. "I didn't want to come back with all of them! I was running away from you! Why couldn't you understand that!"  
He roughly pressed his palms to his eyes. He had a plan. He was going to be better. Everything would have gotten better.

He shakily stood up and had to grab the bed when his vision began to shake. The bandages around his torso were uncomfortable and made his chest ache. Yeah it had to be the bandages.

When he felt a pair of hands grab his shoulder he wretched himself away and hissed at Oga. "Get off me."

The hands reached for him again but this time he put a greater distance between them. Before anyone could stop him he ran out of the room, and out of the house. Bare feet pounded on the gravel, but he couldn't care about the pain.

He ran against the winter wind, with no destination in mind. The only thing that was on his mind was the aching heavy feeling of failure.

They were all back in him. He was now back in one whole pathetic piece of garbage he was. It barely registered in his mind that he was standing under grass. But soon his knees met the grass as well. Looking at the river he was now in front of, the past 48 hours flashed in front of him.

And all he saw was his comatose body while his heart was being eaten or held by the enemy. And then he was split into three. Memories from different point of views flooded him and the entire time he was powerless.

Powerless and useless.

The overwhelming sense of failure hit him and he couldn't stand it. He screamed through gritted teeth while nails scraped through his scalp. He pounded his fist on the ground while growling curses until he felt a pop in his left hand. Hissing he drew the fist to his chest, where he felt the undeniable heart beat.

And he hated it. He hated that his heart was back in one. That all the pieces of his soul managed to come back. He had wanted nothing more than for only one of them to return.

If the strategist won, he would be able to avoid situations that would be negative towards him. He would be smart and there would never be anymore situations that could be misread or show him in the wrong light.

And if shameless won, he could have done whatever the hell he wanted. He would have been free and not care what anyone said about him. Because he didn't care and damn would that have felt good.

But if Brainless was actually the sole piece that made it back to this body, that would've been amazing.

Damn in the end, he really wished brainless won the battle. To do whatever he wanted, to hear the insults but to be to dumb to understand them. To have that ignorance. To not let the words and taunts crawl under his skin and flow through his bloodstream. To not have it poison his body. But the thing he wanted the most with brainless, was to no longer be the prisoner of his brain.

The brain that wouldn't let him forget every time he messed up, or point out his weaknesses, and to repeat every insult that was directed at him. The brain that wouldn't stop making him think that he should just disappear.

He was so tired of it all. Not knowing what else to do he lied himself down on the grass. He welcomed the night chill and the shivers that wracked his body made him hope that he would just break apart. Cause dammit that's how he felt. Like he was breaking. But for some reason, he just couldn't care.

He didn't know how long he laid there but when he heard footsteps he didn't turn around.

It was Oga. No one else would have come after him. The calloused rough hands that picked him up were cold, and he briefly wondered how long Oga had been outside.

Neither of them said anything as Oga took him to his home. But he couldn't find it in himself to care. He didn't care about anything anymore.


End file.
